Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
“The Broad Street branch?” I asked.
“The commercial loan department,” he said. “They are finalizing the release of the corporate assets.”
“Thank you, David,” I said. “For the ledger work.”
“It was simple accounting, Clare,” he said. “The numbers were always there. We just had to show where they went.”
He picked up his briefcase and walked toward the door.
“The new apartment is on Franklin Street?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “The fourth floor.”
“It has a good view of the city,” he said.
“It does,” I said.
He let himself out the back door, the screen door clicking shut behind him.
I stood by the counter, drinking the hot tea while the kitchen grew dark.
The sun was setting behind the garage, casting a long, red light across the empty floorboards.
I looked at the spot where the dining table had been, the light catching the dust motes floating in the empty air.
“It is just a house,” I said, my voice quiet in the room, “and I have everything I actually need right here.”
